Fire Fighting Tales from Rural Maine: May 22nd

On this day, May 22, twenty-two years ago, I graduated from Smith College. Today, I will complete Hancock County Fire Academy by taking my Academy practical and written exams. I will need to remember everything I have learned these last six months...in one go. And then...I am done.

This is the third hard training day in a row. And the fifth of six training weekends in a row. And tomorrow, I will sit for my State pro-board exam. My body is bruised so badly it's alarming. My feet are swollen and sore. My right knee is swollen and achy. I am sunburned. My back hurts. I still have sand in my ears from when the helicopter took off and I stood too near, because I wanted to see what it was like. I am so very, very tired.

Last night, I didn't feel as though I could do one more day. I got home from training with feet so tender I couldn't walk without flinching.

It took me a few hours--and some arnica, and an epsom salt foot bath, and some anti-inflammatories and some ice--but I finally rose to go out to my car and organize my gear for today. I was so exhausted and in so much pain, I began to whimper. I stood in my driveway behind my car, surrounded by gear and I just kept thinking, "Three days in a row is too much. It's too much. I just can't...I can't possibly do what is necessary to be ready for tomorrow. I can't do another day. It's too much..." And I gave myself permission to cry.

I let out one little sob. But no tears came. And then I picked up my helmet and I smelled the smell of smoke. I smelled the rich odor of the previous night's interior burn evolutions. And my face broke into a smile. I hit the dry bottom of my deep well of exhaustion and instead of crying, I smiled. I smiled because I can. I picked up that helmet and I held it to my face and I breathed in that beautiful scent of fire; of teamwork and fortitude and smoke and gratitude and grit and accomplishment and pain. And I knew that whether or not I remember how to tie a becket bend at my end test--or any other particular skill--I will always remember this: I am a fire fighter. And that means that no matter how tired or sore or worn out or afraid that I am...I can. I can keep going. I can get it done, whatever it is. I can do it.

Yesterday, by the way, I asked to do the confined spaces maze again. My albatross, my nightmare, my horror, my thing. I wanted to try it again. Six months after the first tries, which broke me, I did it again. Twice. And I was fine. Six months later, that confined spaces maze is my friend.

I have more to say about this, but no time this morning to say it all. But I will say this:

College was never a "given" for me. My grandfather couldn't read a newspaper. I was the first in my family to get a four-year degree. And I received no help in figuring out how to get into, pay for, or get through one of the very best colleges in the country.

May 22, 1994 and May 22, 2016

I found out when I was 14 years old that I would be on my own when I was 18, and that if I wanted to go to college--and I did!--that it would be entirely up to me to figure out how to accomplish every aspect of that, from applying to schools to applying for financial aid to getting through all four years without financial, practical, or emotional support. I cried when I learned this. And then...I went to work.

The girl who did that is the woman who is doing this.

Whatever happens today...I did it! I completed the Academy. And regardless of how I perform on my tests today...I learned what I was truly meant to learn: I can. Sometimes you need to cry. But then...you go to work. My young self knew that deep inside, and she got me to where I am today. I'm so grateful for whatever makes that possible.

And I am grateful for today.

Wish me luck!